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In the fine new production of the classic Spanish tragicomedy, "La Celestina," the hidden recesses behind the curtain become a new space for theater in the round. General admission tickets allow the playgoers to walk past the Moore reserved seats -- for these two weeks transformed into an open harbor -- scramble up some obscure stairs through a strange doorway in a dark niche and into what is now a great hall split longways by a stage about 10 feet wide.
The "Metamorphosis," Ovid's story-bag of shiftings -- usually about people turning into trees and other assorted foliage -- could never be produced in full.
Last Thursday, AREA, the consortium of senior studio art majors and their wall in the Hopkins Center, opened its second three-week show of paintings.
Anecdotal evidence suggests that women and men sometimes have nice relationships with each other. It is difficult, however, considering how women and men actually interact, to understand how such a suggestion could be anything other than a socially manufactured palliative.
The College becomes a photo album this fall; black and white photographs show in the Hop, quaint geography snapshots crowd the walls of second-floor Collis and administrative offices (e.g., the Dean of the College) jazz up bureaucracy with photographed action sequences.
Paul Gaffney's direction of "As You Like It" brings Shakespeare's romantic comedy home. The storybook charm of Edwardian American sets and costumes, the reserved characters, the rational progression of events, the reluctance to soliloquize too self-centeredly and the degree to which actors keep to their own lines makes stepping indoors from turn of the century Upper Valley into turn of the century Adirondacks entirely natural.
In light of the "Hanover" theme this week, I had hoped to review local art galleries. Unfortunately, Hanover has none.
Susan Lichtman's exhibit of mostly recent oils on linen, "21 Small Paintings," shows in the Hopkins Center's Upper Jewett Corridor (the hallways on either side of the Hinman mailboxes) through the middle of October.
We all wish our lives had a theme-song -- or at least musical interludes between the serious-sounding appointments. Our wishes do not come true. For NPR personalities, however, they do.
By the fall of Pol Pot's treacherous reign over Cambodia (1975-79), a quarter of the nation's people, the Khmer, were dead. The purges of the intellectual and cultural participants in the country left no more than 10 percent of the artists alive. Dance, a millennia-old oral and apprentice-based tradition, the primary ritual and entertainment outlet for the royal courts and provincial villages alike, came to a complete halt, for four silent, stagnant years.
Twice in one week the BEMA has played the stage. After the in-house rendition of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" last Thursday and Friday, the Hopkins Center is currently presenting Water Puppet Theatre from Vietnam.
In an intense and bold performance of one of ancient Greece's supreme myths of terrible desire, (mostly) '03 cast succeeds in performing that most mundane yet exotic and tragic of dances, that of too much love in all the wrong places.
Isobars of cosmopolitania radiate, decreasing, from Hanover, the air in each subsequent ring more rarified, temperature and pressure relating inversely. With increasing distance from DHMC, the Hop and multilevel parking-lots at 7 Leb, "culture" slips, giving air to "people" and "land." Not to say there is less, or even not the same amount, of culture as one nears the borders of the Upper Valley, then breaches the peaks enclosing it, or that there are fewer people and less land at its epicenter. Rather, with a change of degree, external tension subsides, the mass of cars and four-way stop lights and spray-on lawn relents, and internal conflicts between self and real property, or self and another self, gain privilege, or at least light.
From moment to moment life remains pretty much the same, struggle as one might to grasp those individual moments, to turn them into turning-points.
The lithic emblem of New Hampshire, severe yet broadly approving, strikes its profile against the sky, then, staying still while you turn against the mountain, out on the New Hampshire roads far away somewhere.This is our Old Man in the Mountain.
What's that saying about Freud and chocolate? I don't think there is one. Unfortunately, the eager director of "Chocolat," Lasse Hallstrom, sublimates the clich from his repressed memories as a latter-day Charlie, and so "satisfies" his audience with a sickly-sweet fairy tale of caring, redemption and that eternal decision between Mounds and Almond Joy.
Life mirrors art, and art mirrors life, and both life and art have a one-track mind, and that track is set on sex and euphemisms for sex in the drama "Quills."
A confused and less-than-optimal relationship exists between the faculty and students. This bizarre and misunderstood relationship, a problem systemic to our College for "undergraduate education," informs the ugly tension around the Education Department.
To the Editor:
I was determined to know beans," Thoreau affirmed, reflecting on his two years of sustenance farming at Walden Pond. After those two years, he moved on, with other lives to live, but he forever returned in his thoughts and writings to his days beneath the sky and the limbs of trees. Regardless of whether or not his mother brought him brown-bag lunches daily, or if he went into town on a regular basis, his acquaintance with beans and bugs and weeds, influenced and informed his life as a writer, philosopher, and naturalist.